


Tales from the Eternal Alliance: The Anthology

by SWTORpadawan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Anthology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWTORpadawan/pseuds/SWTORpadawan
Summary: In the wake of the rebellion against the Eternal Throne, the Alliance emerged from the ashes. A coalition of remarkable individuals dedicated to bringing peace to the galaxy. This is their story.





	1. Sacrifices

**Author’s Notes:** _These chapters will be released in no particular order. The first one takes place shortly after Chapter 8 of **Knights of the Eternal Throne**._

* * *

 

 

To:          Shae Vizla, Mandalore the Avenger

From:    Corellan Halcyon, Commander of the Eternal Alliance

Re:         Sacrifices

 

Mandalore,

 

I will not waste your time telling you of Torian Cadera’s courage in battle.

I know you already knew all about that.

I will not tell you of how, in the Alliance’s darkest hour, Torian was unwavering, doing what needed to be done.

I know you would have expected no less of him.

What I will tell you is that Torian was Vaylin’s final victim. She will never kill anyone again.  

Know also that from this day forward, when the people of the Alliance speak of making the ultimate sacrifice, they will speak of Torian Cadera.

To that end, the Cadera Medal of Valor will be the highest honor ever awarded to Alliance personnel, and that it will only ever be awarded to those who make the same sacrifice with the same courage.

I hope you and the Clans who follow you will choose to stay with us. But even if you do not, even if fate decides we must someday be enemies, we will never forget the blood that was spilled this day.

Torian may have been the last of his line, but Clan Cadera will live on forever in the hearts and minds of the Alliance.

 _Mhi will draar digur_.

 

Corellan


	2. Three Years

_**Author's Notes:** Warnings for PTSD / emotional trauma / allusions to sexual violence._

* * *

 

 _Three years_.

Bas’rish leveled her blasters at the target. It was all instinctive to her, of course. She could almost make these shots in her sleep. People had been telling her how naturally gifted she was with a blaster in her hand since she was old enough to hold one back on Ryloth. And she’d been very young at the time, indeed.

The shooting range on Odessen was quiet this time of night. This ‘Alliance’ of Corellan’s never really slept, but even so, most of its personnel did find time to sleep at some point. Even Bowdarr had finally settled in for the evening, though like Bas’rish, he preferred to sleep in his old quarters aboard the _Maiden’s Luck_ , which was now sitting on a nearby landing platform. Bas’rish, of course, had been offered accommodations inside the Alliance base when she’d joined, but she’d declined. The familiarity of her old ship, with Bowie residing just down the hall, were a welcome sanctuary. Her ship was the only place that had ever truly felt like home. Her old crew – misfits and vagabonds, such as they were – were the only people who had ever felt like family. Aside from Corellan and maybe Kira and a handful of others she could count on one hand.

She pulled the trigger. The automated targets registered the hits. Both bull’s eyes.   

_Three years._

Bowdarr. Her ship. And her freedom. Corellan had managed to return all these things to her. And he’d offered her a place in his Alliance without a second thought. A chance for her to strike back at the Eternal Empire. Surrogate little brother or not, she didn’t like owing the Jedi – or _former_ Jedi – so much. Hell, she still owed him from before he disappeared, and the entire galaxy went sideways.  

She fired her blasters again. Both indicators flashed. Hits.  

_Three years._

Bas’rish had ‘been someone’, once. Someone important. The Twi’lek merchant captain had been the best smuggler of her generation. (And the best living, _period_ , no matter what Hylo Visz thought.) She was the finest quick-draw artist anyone had ever seen. She’d been the one to find the long-lost treasure of Nok Drayen. She’d co-opted a coalition of fellow independent traders back in the day to help the Republic pull off an improbable victory on Corellia and was afterwards honored by the high-and-mighty Chancellor herself. She’d been a thorn in the sides of _two_ Empires, both of which had been hell-bent on galactic conquest. She’d been an even greater scourge to legions of gangsters, petty crime bosses, bounty hunters and Republic customs officers. She’d been counted a friend and valued ally of the most famous heroes in the free galaxy. Along the way, she’d left a long trail behind her of broken hearts of both genders, including those of two Republic senators, one Jedi Knight on Tatooine, an Imperial General, and two Alderaanian nobles – a brother and a sister - at the _same time_. (Beat _that,_ Hylo.)

In a word, she’d been the _Voidhound_.

Then the ‘three years’ had come.

Three years as a prisoner of the Zakuulan Empire. Three years as a plaything to that bitch of an Exarch on her infernal Star Fortress hovering over Belsavis. Three years during which the rest of her crew, believing she was dead, had apparently scattered to the four corners of the galaxy. Three years during which her name and reputation had faded; most now seemed to think of her as yesterday’s news. Three years where the rest of the galaxy simply carried on without her.   

_Three years._

Bas’rish finally holstered her blasters, satisfied with her shooting if not with her own state of mind. Her customized belt with its holsters, pouches and ‘little tricks’ was one of the few things she had retained from her old ensemble. That, and her boots. Gone was the flashy gray jacket with red trim with the mid-riff baring red shirt beneath it that was tied off just above her naval, showing off just enough of her lovely green skin to be distracting without looking outright indecent in public. Cast aside were the matching trousers, the ones that that showed her backside to great advantage. Her ‘new look’ featured a black trench coat with adaptive armor padding and dark clothes underneath that showed precious little in the way of skin. The Twi’lek smuggler had even considered an eye patch but had decided the small scar just beneath her right eye – virtually the only physical scar on her body left over from her recent time as a prisoner – didn’t really warrant it, and no matter what anyone else said, she hated being a caricature of herself.   

She suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

Bas’rish spun on her heels on reflex, rolling into a crouch as she pulled both blasters and pointed them towards this figure who had been standing behind her. The movement was purely instinctive; a talent that had been refined from countless gunfights with Imperials, gangsters and other scum.

Corellan Halcyon, the Alliance Commander, the infamous ‘Outlander’, simply raised his hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch.” He smiled thinly.

Bas’rish felt her eyes widen in recognition then exhaled slowly, realizing only afterwards that she had been holding her breath. She re-holstered her blasters, then turned away from the Alliance Commander. He was wearing his new body armor – the one that was clearly Zakuulan inspired. She’d guessed that Jedi robes no longer suited him. Still, even with his twin lightsabers sheathed, he couldn’t help looking like the star from an action holovid.

“Sheesh, Hero. You startled me.”  

Corellan’s smile widened a bit at her old nickname for him. She’d used it on reflex. They’d been close, once. Maybe they still were. Bas’rish honestly wasn’t certain, at this moment.

In response, he let his hand fall to his sides.

“I can tell.” His voice was simple and matter of fact.

_Three years._

The smuggler reached down and dusted herself off. She’d kicked up quite a bit of dirt with her little move, as well as from her shooting session.

“Need something?” Bas finally asked.

“Just checking in, really. We haven’t gotten to speak much since you joined us.” He looked around. “It’s kind of late for target practice.”

“I just wanted to avoid the crowd.” She said the words quietly.

“I understand.” Corellan just nodded. “Hylo says the run to Kessel you and Bowdarr just came back from went well.”

“Told her there was a short cut.” Bas’rish smirked wickedly. The smile faded when she looked over at him and realized he was watching her for something. Doing that ‘careful consideration Jedi-thing’.   

She folded her arms at him, eyeing him incredulously.

“I take it there’s a ‘but’ in there, somewhere?”

Corellan slowly nodded. “Hylo also said she’s worried you’re pushing yourself – and your ship – too hard. Given what you’ve been through, I mean. Belsavis was only a week ago.”

 _Was it?_ Her eyes narrowed at that. Bas’rish didn’t doubt he was telling the truth about the passage of time, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Like it had been a mere interruption in the life she’d been living, or that she had been dreaming for a long time but had woken up now and was ready for the life she’d had before to resume.

Even if she knew it wouldn’t go that way.

“Well, it’s my butt. And my ship.” She countered. “They’re both mine to push as hard as I want.”

Bas’rish worried for a second that Corellan would bring up the fact that she’d signed on with the Alliance. She was technically under his command. If he pressed the issue and pulled rank, tried to ground her, she honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do. If he were anyone else, she’d probably jump in her ship and bail on everything on the spot. With him…

Fortunately, he didn’t press. Not the way she expected, anyway.

“What about Bowdarr?” Corellan’s head tilted just a bit.

That knocked the wind out of her sails, a little. The loyal Wookie was one of the last links to her life from before. Her reunion with the big fuzzy lug after all that time… she had to bury her face in his fur so people wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

_Three years._

Corellan Halcyon had her beat on that score, of course. He’d been frozen in carbonite for _five_ years. For all Bas’rish had been through, she didn’t even want to think about what that could do to a person. Bas’rish wouldn’t trade places with him. Certainly not with that crusty old bastard, the Sith Emperor, now running around in his head. She was one of the very few who had a damned good idea of what he had lost along the way. And, of course, he was _still_ somebody. Even five years after he had disappeared, hundreds had flocked to his banner, with nearly half of those coming from his former enemies in the Sith Empire. The Republic troops were no surprise, and the independents (her ilk, she supposed) had been squeezed so much, they probably would have followed almost anyone at this point. But the Imps! Corellan had probably killed more Sith and Imperial soldiers by his own hand than anyone else living, and they _still_ admired him enough to bail on their beloved masters back on Dromund Kaas.

She honestly didn’t envy him, not any of it. Not after getting a taste of the burden weighing on his shoulders. She just…

“Bowie can take it. Trust me.” She finally answered.

He regarded her softly, then nodded. “Okay.”

The Twi’lek smuggler blinked. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I mean I trust you.” Corellan answered levelly, opening his hands wide. “If you tell me you’re alright, and that Bowdarr is alright, and that your ship is alright, then I believe you.” He regarded her again.

“So, that being the case, I’m okay.”

Bas’rish swallowed and turned away. Dammit. “Okay.”

Corellan shifted uncomfortably, a silence settling in.

“I’m sorry we haven’t talked more.” He dipped his head a little. “I’ve been busy.”

_Three years._

“I believe you.” Bas’rish smiled, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I remember I felt swamped running a smuggler fleet for a few days. Running an outfit like this? I can’t even imagine.”

Corellan chuckled a little at that. “Honestly? Lana Beniko and the others handle most of the day-to-day administrative responsibilities. Theron Shan and I have been running operations.”

Her smile widened into a smirk. “I should have known. You never stay out of the field for long. What have you been hitting?”

The Alliance Commander eyed her levelly.

“The other Star Fortresses.”    

Bas’rish blinked in surprise at Corellan.

“We used what we learned from the first one – and what you told us about them during your debriefing – to start hitting Star Fortresses above worlds with active resistance movements.” He pressed on. “There were minor differences, of course, but they all followed the same basic layout and employed the same strategy and tactics. Uniformity proved their undoing.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief at the Eternal Empire’s arrogance. “Belsavis was only the beginning. We’ve destroyed five more Star Fortresses all in the past week. All six worlds are now in open rebellion against Zakuul. Their resistance cells have linked up with the Alliance, like K'krohl did after Belsavis.”   

The smuggler captain let out a slow whistle.

“That’s… crazy.”

Corellan shifted his head and shoulders a little. If he were a man capable of nonchalance, it might have come off as a shrug.

“Well, we weren’t sure how quickly they would make adjustments. As far as we can tell, they haven’t even tried. The Exarches apparently aren’t very effective at sharing information with each other, especially when faced with oncoming failure.”

Bas’rish shivered involuntarily. “Yeah. Forta Gair used to rant about the other Exarches all the time. Always complaining about who was getting the cushy assignments back on Zakuul, or who was commanding Fortresses over more interesting planets than Belsavis. She had a _lot_ of anger.”

Corellan’s brow furrowed. Plainly, he’d picked up the emotion in her voice.

“It got bad, huh?”

Bas bit her lip. She could have given him a one-word answer. He’d have accepted it. She knew he would.

_Three years._

“One thing I’ve learned fighting the Eternal Empire: At their core, the Knights of Zakuul are fanatics.” Bas’rish answered diplomatically. “With the Exarches, their best of the best, it’s doubly so. And Forta was the worst kind of fanatic.”

“How so? Was she brutal? Insane?”

“Worse.” Bas replied. “She was bored.”

Corellan was clearly being cautious with her. But when her pause lingered, he finally pressed. “How do you mean?”

It took her few moments to fully form the words. Corellan, of course, gave her all the time she needed.

“You know,” she began wistfully. “Back when I was just running contraband through Republic worlds, we used to say the worst customs agents weren’t the ones on the major worlds that saw lots of trade and had thriving markets, both black and white. No, the worst ones were the high-and-mighty petty bureaucrats on the small worlds at the ass-end of space. They just don’t have enough to do. One fella on Taris even threatened to have me locked up in prison on Belsavis. Which is ironic, I guess, given what happened later.”

Bas’rish exhaled slowly. “Forta Gair was like that, in a lot of ways. She was one of their biggest and baddest warriors, and here Arcann had stuck her on a Star Fortress in orbit over a dung heap of a prison planet that most people never heard of. A planet that has been a quagmire of fighting for years. The Fortresses practically run themselves; everything is automated. There was hardly anything for her to do aside from watching broadcasts of the freed convicts and the local Esh-kha killing each other while the Republic completely failed to restore order.” 

Corellan must have caught the tremor in her voice. His eyes grew sympathetic.

“What did she do?” he finally whispered.

Bas’rish exhaled again, this time trying to turn it into a laugh. She felt light-headed and manic at the same time.

“Oh, you know. Sometimes she wanted…. wanted…” The Twi’lek’s voice caught itself before she said any more. For a second, it felt hard to breathe. She felt her right arm start to shake. Cursing herself, her left hand reached over and grasped it. On an academic level, she recognized that it was a coping mechanism. Something she’d hoped – prayed – she’d stop doing after her escape.

 _Three years_.

She couldn’t help it. She started talking faster.

“It wasn’t so bad, though. She’d always have me taken to the medical bay afterwards to recover. Those Zakuul droids are good at patching people up. Three years of all that and I only got this little scar to show for it, see?” she reached her hand up to her cheek, brushing her fingertips against the small scar running across her eye.

She didn’t want to tell him why the Exarch had ‘allowed’ her to keep that one scar.

The hand started to shake again as she looked down.

Corellan started to reach out his hand for hers, then stopped.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Is this…?”

She looked up into those pale-blue eyes. They were so trusting, even after everything he had been through. She finally nodded, reaching out her own shaking hand.

He gently reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. After a moment, her breathing returned to normal and she looked up at him. There was a look of regret in his eyes she hadn’t ever seen before.

“I’m sorry.” He offered simply.

She scoffed but didn’t pull her hand away. “I told you before I’m a big girl. You aren’t responsible for what happens to me.”

“No.” Corellan reflected. There was genuine guilt in his voice. “I’m not. But if I had been around, if I hadn’t gone missing, I might have stopped all of this. The invasion, the subjugation… I might have stopped it all from getting this bad in the first place. I might not be responsible for you, but maybe I am responsible to the galaxy.”

Bas’rish angrily pulled her hand back from his and punched him in the arm. And she didn’t bother being gentle about it.

Corellan, who’d probably endured more combat related injuries than anyone she knew aside from Bowdarr, winced and started rubbing his arm at the point of impact.

“Ouch.” He looked down at her questioningly.

“That’s bantha dung, Hero. You know better than to think like that. Hell, even your Masters taught you better.” She brooded. “If we’re going to start thinking like that, I might as well blame myself for getting caught and everything that happened to me.”

Corellan picked up on that. He always was good at reading her mood.

“How’d it happen?”

She shifted and turned away. “You didn’t read my debriefing?” Theron Shan had taken most of the questions when they’d brought her to Odessen.

Corellan shook his head. “This isn’t ‘Commander Halcyon’ asking. This is just me. Theron would have told me if there was something the Alliance Commander needed to know. But I figured you’d talk to me about it if you were ever ready.”

Bas’rish exhaled, then nodded. Somehow, talking to him made it easier.

“Well, after the invasion rolled in, jobs started getting tougher and tougher. Their blasted fleet was everywhere. My crew and I did what we could. We even ran some jobs for the resistance group that Kira was part of before that fell apart. I lost touch with her after that.” She eyed him for some reaction and, finding none, pressed on with her story. “Two years in, we were starting to get desperate just to find a safe harbor. The Zakuulans had Nar Shaddaa on lock down by then, and I soured on Port Nowhere when it was taken over by some idiot calling herself the ‘Red Huntress’.”  

She paused, brow furrowing.

“Risha had left by then, gone off to chase her throne on Dubrillion. With our situation, I couldn’t blame her. I know it didn’t work out for her, but I don’t know if she survived.” The Twi’lek swallowed again at the bitter memory.

“Anyway, we got word of a prisoner on Belsavis – an Exchange slicer named Chaney Barrow – who supposedly knew how to avoid scans by the Eternal Fleet. Problem was, by then, Belsavis had its own Star Fortress. The only way we could reach the surface and search for this slicer was if we knocked out their sensors for a while. We managed to board the station and get pretty far in before the Exarch got wise to what we were doing.”

Bas’rish took another breath.

“Long story short, I got trapped behind a security force field. Guss tried to work the panel and bypass it, but by then we knew the Exarch was on her way with her Knights. We were out of time. I told them all to run for it.”

She swallowed. “Corso refused. He actually started hitting the shield with his fists in aggravation, the damned idiot farm boy.” She smiled a bit at the memory and sniffed. “Akaavi finally had to knock him out and carry him off. She said something to me in Mandalorian… I couldn’t understand it, but it sounded like a prayer. She was pretty torn up. Guss, too.” She sighed. “Long story short, Forta Gair caught me, then broadcast to everyone that I’d been killed. Bowdarr had been holding down the ship where we were docked and would have come back for me if he thought I was still alive at that point.”  

“I understand.” Corellan said somberly.

Had he been anyone else, she would have hit him again. Thing was, she suspected he _did_ understand. That part of it, anyway. At least he had Teeseven – his little Astromech droid – back, the way she had Bowdarr.

Time to change the subject. Before her eyes started to well up again.

“By the way, that’s two I owe you, kid.”

Corellan raised an eyebrow, questioningly. She wondered to herself if he had learned that expression from watching his Jedi Masters.

“Two?” he finally asked when she didn’t elaborate.

“You saved me from Drooga when we first met on Nar Shaddaa. Remember?”

The Commander chuckled at the memory. “As I recall, you took a very active part in your escape. Same as you did at Belsavis.”

Bas’rish smirked herself in remembrance. To her own surprise, it had been almost ten years ago, now. (Damn, she was getting old.) Her ‘negotiations’ with Drooga had gone sideways even after she’d recovered his blasted pet shanjaru. She could never help running her mouth too much with the Hutts. Bad memories from back on Ryloth, probably. Bas was a hell of a gunslinger but facing off against _all_ Drooga’s guards was just a bit out of her league. Realizing that Corso was going to get himself killed trying to save her, she’d ordered him to run. (Back then, he still listened when she gave commands like that.) With the Twi’lek captain captured, Drooga had ordered her dressed in a slave girl outfit and then collared with a chain leash that wrapped around him, forcing her to sit at the foot of his throne. The sick bastard had even pulled her close and licked her face, promising her that she’d be ‘my entertainment tonight and my breakfast tomorrow’.

Creep.

Fortunately for her, Corso had found a couple of young Jedi wandering the streets a couple of hours later, and they’d been willing to help. (This was how she had met Corellan Halcyon and Kira Carsen in the first place.) The trio had fought their way to Drooga’s barge, with Bowdarr – who she had only just met – staging his own jailbreak during the chaos. Taking advantage of the distraction, Bas’rish had wrapped her chain around Drooga, then pulled when she was out of reach of his grasp. The fat Hutt (was there another kind?) had struggled hard, but when his eyes had popped out of his sockets and his final breath escaped from his nostrils, it had been one of the most satisfying moments of her life. With their meal ticket gone, the remaining guards had fled along with Drooga’s guests, and Corellan had cut her loose from her chain with a slash of his lightsaber. Having been rescued and still practically naked, she’d jumped into the tall Jedi’s arms and planted a kiss on his cheek, drawing a flush of embarrassment from the Jedi Knight, a blustering reaction from Corso (who still had a little crush on her at the time) … and daggers from the eyes of one Kira Carsen.     

Bas’rish had gotten it.

Instead of propositioning the Jedi Knight – which had been her first inclination at the time – she’d pronounced Corellan her ‘little brother’ on the spot. It didn’t seem likely that they’d ever meet again, but as fate would have it, they’d wound up teaming up several more times, most famously when she and Corso had joined with Corellan, Kira, Ulannium – the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order – and Havoc Squad in their assault on Darth Malgus’ space station at Ilum. That had been a hell of a fight. But in between all these encounters, the smuggler and the Jedi hero had often exchanged letters and holo-messages. He’d warned her off a couple of tough situations involving Imperial fleet movements and she’d advised him on matters involving navigating the criminal underworld and other matters well-raised Jedi weren’t usually taught in their temples.

They were very different people, but they had made a good team.

(She would never admit it, but he’d probably rubbed off on her a bit from that first encounter. She’d made more ‘altruistic’ choices along the way than she felt she normally would. It was kinda weird.)

“Well, in the case of Drooga, my ego wouldn’t let you and the others have all the fun while I played the damsel in distress.” Bas’rish smiled wickedly. “For Forta… that was personal. Just a taste of what I owed her.”  

She thought back at the memory from just a week ago. Corellan, while storming through the station with his Astromech droid, had found her in the Fortresses’ medical bay, recovering from another extended ‘interrogation session’ with the Exarch. He’d freed her, even recovering her blasters for her, then she’d joined him and Teeseven for the rest of their run. In the end, when they’d finally confronted the Exarch, Corellan had engaged her in a vicious lightsaber duel, giving Bas the opening she needed. A series of precise shots had breached Forta Gair’s armor and crippled her for good.   

 _Three years_.

She’d stood over the Exarch, this woman who had made her whole world a living nightmare for the last three years and looked into her eyes. Defeated, Forta had looked back up at her in disbelief. As if it were impossible for the Zakuulan to believe that her imprisoned ‘pet’ could ever be the one to finally deliver the death blow.  

One well-placed shot between the eyes had proved her wrong.

She noticed Corellan had grown quiet and somber again.

“I should have gotten you out.” He said sullenly. “The moment I saw you lying there. I should have aborted the mission and gotten you back to the ship. You were in no condition to press on to the Exarch.”

The smuggler scoffed. Her physical injuries had mostly been healed at that point.

She knew Corellan wasn’t talking about physical injuries.

“You couldn’t take the risk. You’d invested a lot of prep work for that mission. If you’d scrapped it all, the Exarch would know you’d been there and would have changed everything. She’d have been ready for you next time. You might never have gotten another chance. Besides, I proved I could still handle myself, didn’t I?”  

“Maybe.” He looked at her again. “But it would have been the right thing to do.”

Bas restrained herself from rolling her eyes at his words. Instead, she sighed.

“Doing the right thing – and doing the best thing – aren’t always the same thing, Hero.” She said. “The things you’re taking on now… you’re making decisions that will shape the whole damned galaxy for years to come.” She stopped herself. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the pressure on his shoulders.

“Anyway, like I said, that’s two I owe you.” Bas finished.

“You know I’d never hold you to that.” Corellan frowned again.

This time, Bas’rish shot him a hard look.

“Hero, debts like that aren’t about the person they’re owed to.” She said somberly. “They’re about the person who owes them. Just… accept it, okay?”

He started to speak, then stopped himself, looking into her eyes.

“Okay.” Corellan finally said.

An awkward silence settled between them. She didn’t know where to go from there and he suddenly recognized the need to change the subject.

“Also, can I just say you’re only about two years older than me. That’s hardly old enough for you to call me ‘kid’.”

It was as close as he could manage to an actual joke. Kira would have been proud.

“Closer to seven, now.” She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled. “Carbonite.”

It wasn’t an idle barb. Bas’rish honestly hoped that would get him to open up about what was up with him. Instead, he just exhaled and nodded.

“Well, I suppose so.”

That was so like _him_. He just absorbed the blows, got up and kept going.

“Tried to escape once.” Bas’rish offered. She didn’t know why she was telling him about this part. Maybe she cared too much about what he thought about her? “From the Star Fortress, I mean.”

“Really?” Corellan turned his head, listening with interest.

“Mmm-hmm.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “About five months after I got snatched. I caught the Exarch in a … a ‘compromising’ position where I knew she couldn’t corner me and then I made a run for it. I had it all planned out. How to bypass the security. How to get past the patrols. I even had the codes to launch the shuttle sitting in the hangar. From there, there’s no way I couldn’t have out-flown whatever they threw at me and gotten away.” A soft sigh. “It would have been perfect, Hero. The greatest escape of my whole damned career.”  

As Bas’rish’s voice trailed off, another awkward silence settled between them. This was definitely getting to be a thing.

“What happened?” He finally asked, quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t know that Forta had wired my shock collar remotely to her cybernetic implants.” She waved a hand, feigning indifference. “She didn’t need her control device – or even her hands – to zap me from anywhere within the Fortress. She basically just took me down with a _thought_ , right before I would have reached the hangar.”

Bas’rish found she had turned away from him again.

“Clever bitch. She made me pay for that little stunt for weeks afterwards.” She exhaled. “And after that, she was much more careful with me. She never let her guard down with me again.”

She watched the tension roll through his body. What would have been anger in someone else. For a second, it looked like he was distracted, listening to someone else.

“I understand.” Corellan said quietly.

This time she turned and challenged him as a flash of anger came to her green eyes.

“Do you?” she bit back a retort.

He nodded slowly.

“I know you. I know you value your freedom more than almost anything else.” Corellan said. “Imprisoning you, telling your crew you were dead, treating you like that, to you, that must have been worse than death.”   

Damn. He had her pegged as much as she had him.

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Just as you value being the ‘Hero’ more than almost anything else.”

Not a dig. They’d always been honest with each other.

 “Maybe. But like you said, I need to become more than that.” He shook his head, plainly determined not to get thrown off his train of thought. “That doesn’t matter. The point is, I can’t imagine what being imprisoned could do to you. Regardless of my intent, I’d never try to do the same by grounding you on Odessen, even if I thought it was for your own good.”

Finally, Corellan looked up at her. She could see the pain in his eyes, and he could see the same in hers.

 “I’m not okay. And you’re not okay.” He said quietly. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

This time, Bas didn’t turn away. She reached out and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him close. Much to her surprise, his feet didn’t budge. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug.

She lowered her head muffled a sob into his shoulder.

“I want to kill them all.” Bas’rish whispered harshly into his ear, still clinging to him. “ _All_ of them. Arcann. His stupid sister. All their Knights and Exarches. Everyone who fought for them and helped them. For what they took from me. For what they took from you. For what they took from all of us.” She exhaled slowly. “I want to just light their whole planet on fire and watch them burn.”

Stars, it felt good to say all that out loud.

Corellan simply pulled her closer, holding her like that.   

“I know.” He answered quietly.

That was it. No judgements. No condemnations. No damned Jedi platitudes about temperance and the folly of revenge. Just a quiet acceptance of what she had said. An acceptance of what she _felt_.

That was Corellan. He would never preach or nag or demand. He’d inspire and even lead you… but only if you let him. Otherwise, he’d just press on with what he had.

He didn’t bother releasing her from the hug. He just spoke in a low voice.

“Listen, I know I’m not much of a counselor. And I’m probably not much better at being a surrogate little brother, either. But I am your friend. I’ll do anything I can to help you. And I have a whole organization of people behind me, now. Some of them are, you know, equipped to help with situations like this. I can send one of them to talk to you.” He paused. “But only if you’re comfortable with it.”   

If it had been anyone else making the offer, she’d probably have pushed him away and stormed off in a huff. Possibly after delivering some key insults about people minding their own business.

But she knew he was hurting, too.

Their experiences had been very different, but he understood about her crew. Maybe he understood about this, too.

So instead, she just pulled him closer.

“You’re the best surrogate little brother any girl could ask for.” She exhaled slowly, then leaned up to whisper in his ear. “When we find him, please don’t let Corso know I told you that. He gets jealous about that sort of thing.”

Corellan chuckled faintly. “What about Bowdarr?”

“Oh, Bowie’s way too old to be a surrogate little brother. Or even a surrogate big brother. He’s more like a loving, slightly crazy uncle. With a lot of fur. And with the strength to rip Skytroopers apart with his bare hands.”

Corellan laughed lightly at that, something he did rarely. The two finally eased out of their embrace.  

“You’ve gotten better at this ‘hug’ business.” Bas’rish grinned up at him wryly.

He smiled back. “Well, I’ve learned to expand my skill set.”

She snickered then finally exhaled.

“I think… I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” She swallowed. “For help from someone.”

“I’m glad.” Corellan looked relieved.

An easy peace settled between them. This time, it didn’t feel awkward at all.

“Nightcap?” he offered.

Bas’rish smirked again. In all the years she’d known him, it was the first time he’d ever been the one to invite her for a drink.

“Sure. See you in the Cantina in five?”

“Of course.” Corellan gave her a boyish grin, and there was a bit of light in his eyes. “It’s good to have you here, Bas.”

With that, he turned, walking back towards the base. Bas’rish simply watched him depart before gathering her things.

Corellan was right. She wasn’t okay. And she wouldn’t be okay for a while, yet.

But she had her ship, her Wookie, her friend and, most importantly, she had her freedom.

Bas’rish realized that she was _still_ somebody, after all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

_**Author's Notes:**  Sorry I've been gone for so long. Work has been tough._

_In case it wasn't obvious, Bas'rish is another OC of mine within the game. I'm glad i'm finally introducing her in the story._

 


End file.
